Into the Window
by Zandra Celene Frasier
Summary: Many have tried to imagine what Wendy Darling really felt for Peter Pan. But on the night that the Darling children were swept away into the sky, what went through the mind and heart of their mysterious, half-fairy kidnapper?


Hello everyone! I know you're all eagerly awaiting the next chapter of "A Storm from the North." I've received some very good (and sometimes conflicting!) advice from several sources as to how I can make my story better. So I'm taking a break for a few days to edit and rethink where I'm going with the whole thing. I'll be away from home this weekend at a violin workshop, and hopefully I'll squeeze in some free time to do my editing. Until I get back, here's a one-shot I wrote a while back about my first love, Peter Pan. It's dedicated to my good friend **Adelaide Pitman**. Hope you enjoy!

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"All right, I'll admit it was stupid."

I was zooming through the night, past the stars, faster than any bird the earth has ever known.

"Finally," said Tinker Bell, my pixie. "And now we have to fly all the way back to that wretched city, and actually sneak into that house, all because _why?"_

I rolled my eyes for the eighteenth time that night. "I got too close."

"Hmph," grumbled the pixie.

"Tink, I'm sorry," I said, hoping I sounded more earnest than I felt. "I've heard that voice tell so many wonderful stories. Adventures even I would dream of having. I wanted to see the Storyteller behind the curtains, just once. I wanted to see what it looked like."

"Your curiosity got your shadow stuck in a window."

I winced a little just thinking of how my shadow had been ripped from my feet when the window slammed shut. My shadow was still inside that house, and I needed it back. What I didn't mention to Tink was that now I'd have another chance to see the Storyteller.

Tink came down from her perch in my hair to fly alongside me. "My wings need a stretch," she said.

I said nothing. Even as Tink shook her long, red ponytail, my heart beat faster and faster in anticipation of another encounter with the Storyteller – a brush with danger. Hopefully this would be more successful than the last.

We reached the window. I had to pause for a moment to be sure I was still alive. I was certain my heart had stopped. Immediately, I could hear it beating loudly again in my ears. Tink hovered before me, her soft glow illuminating the window's latch. I twisted the latch – thank goodness the window was not barred! – and pushed upward with all my might. In the same instant, I felt a strong wind on my back. The window flew open, and the breeze shot inside, tossing the curtains back. I paused with my hands on my hips and took a deep breath. I tried not to look nervous.

Tink hurried inside ahead of me. "Come on. Let's find your shadow and get out of here."

A cloud covered the moon, and without Tink's flow, the balcony was black as coal. I let my breath out and glided in after Tink.

"Tinker Bell," I whispered. Her light was nowhere to be seen. "Tink, where are you?"

I came to a dresser and moved some items on the top of it. I picked up a jug and peeked inside.

"Tink, quit being funny. Come out of that jug and help me look for my shadow."

Tink sighed. "But it's so comfortable in here."

I frowned into the jug.

"Oh, all right." Tink reluctantly withdrew from the jug.

"Be quiet," I said, putting a finger to my lips.

Tink made a face at me, but otherwise did nothing. We parted ways, both in search of my shadow. Well, at least Tink was. I was searching for the Storyteller. I came to a bed. A very large, fancy bed at that – fit for a king. I floated over the bed to see who might be in it.

I gasped. It was something so strange, yet there was something about it that seemed to pull me closer. Before I knew quite what I was doing, my fingers brushed its face.

It was a girl.

I had seen girls before. Tiger Lily was a girl. Tinker Bell was a girl, too, except smaller. But this girl was somehow different. I didn't know much about girls, except that they grew up into mothers. I drew away from her just a little at the very thought. She was so perfect; I could not let her become a mother. I had to keep this girl from growing up. But how?

"Peter," I heard Tink call.

I slowly turned away from the girl and flew to Tinker Bell. "What?"

She waved her arm, beckoning me closer. She pointed to the keyhole in a large box. I looked inside and saw nothing but darkness.

"What?" I asked again.

"He's in there."

My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. "The storyteller?"

Tink frowned. "No, you silly, your shadow."

My eyes widened, but that was just for show. Seeing the Storyteller would have been much more exciting. I poised myself, hovering over the box. I put both hands on the edge of the lid. Tink held up one tiny finger. I grinned.

"One."

Tink held up another.

"Two."

Tink held up a third.

"Three," I growled, and at the same instant I threw open the box. The lid made a clanking noise as it hit the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl sit up in bed, fully awake. I would have to put on a show for her, whether I liked it or not. My shadow leaped out. I slammed the box shut. Shadow flew, and I was off in hot pursuit.

I quickly soared to the window and yanked it shut so my shadow would not escape the room. I managed to block his path in the nick of time. Clearly flustered, he turned tail and zoomed the opposite way. I stayed on his tail the whole time, letting him have perhaps a foot's edge on me. I was careful not to so much as glance at the girl, but my mind was on her the whole time. I should give chase just a little longer, I thought, to keep her entertained.

A moment later, I decided I had better end the fun before the girl began to think that Shadow was faster than me. "Aha!" I whispered as I grabbed one of his paper-thin ankles. I held on with both hands for all I was worth. It was like trying to hold a ghost who had bathed in oil. Shadow pulled, strained, and finally, just when I thought he might slip between my fingers, fell limp. I grinned and was barely able to keep myself from stealing a glance at the girl to see how impressed she was.

But I didn't think about that long. I was puzzled. I was never puzzled, because I knew pretty much everything. One thing I didn't know, however, was how to reattach one's shadow. I lined up Shadow's feet with mine, and nothing happened.

Pinesap was what I needed, but I was in a house with no trees. If I opened the window, Shadow might escape. He still had a little life in him, and even now I thought I saw him teasing me. I scowled at him and roamed the room, searching for anything that might be sticky. I found a soft, square something. It felt strange, and a little sticky, like amber. It was worth a try. I sat down and rubbed some of it on my feet. I pressed Shadow's feet onto mine, and alas nothing happened. The stuff made my feet smell a little better, but that was no use if I didn't have a shadow. I bit my lip to keep back tears. Why was I crying? Frustrated and angry with myself for crying over a stupid shadow, I flung the squarish thing away. It clanged against a wall hidden somewhere in the darkness. Shadow laughed silently. More tears came.

"Boy, why are you crying?"

I spun around and found myself on my feet, still grasping Shadow with one hand. Even he looked surprised. The girl had fully risen, and was standing beside her bed, looking down at me with pity. In a long, white nightdress and bare-footed, her auburn hair tumbling down to her waist, she looked almost like an angel. It was not so much her presence that startled me, but the fact that I recognized her voice.

What had she said, though? Something about my crying. Quickly I drew my arm across my face to wipe away the tears.

"I am not!" I said.

"But you were," she insisted kindly.

Yes, that was it! This girl was the Storyteller. That voice I admired so much and knew so well belonged to this girl, who could have been no taller than I!

"What is the matter?" the familiar voice implored.

I quite stared at her, still in disbelief that someone so small could tell stories so grand. "My shadow won't stick," I said carefully.

"Well, you can't stick it on with soap, silly," she said, her blue eyes sparkling precisely as if she knew everything there was to know about shadows. "It must be sewn on with a needle."

My face screwed up into a grimace faster than I could stop it. I glanced down at my bare feet. "A needle?"

"Yes," she said. She sounded sad for me! But just the same she went for her needle. First, however, she lit a candle, and when she did, her needle glimmered in the dim light.

"This may hurt," she warned.

I boldly handed her my shadow. He protested greatly. "I'm not afraid."

Shadow looked at me as if I was absolutely crazy.

The girl and I sat near the bed. I bit my lip as she sewed, and I tasted blood. I had to close my eyes so I wouldn't watch the needle coming in and out of my foot. Just when I thought for sure I would cry out, the girl spoke.

"What's your name, boy?"

Somehow, the way her voice filled the silence eased the sharp pain in my foot. "Peter," I gladly told her. "Peter Pan."

"I'm Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

I suddenly felt as if my name was much too short. But I must say hers suited her perfectly.

"John, my brother, is in that bed on the right, and the bed in the far corner is Michael's. He's the youngest of us."

She had brothers? I hadn't even noticed the other two beds.

"How old are you?" Wendy Moira Angela asked.

Something tugged at my heart like she tugged on her thread. I couldn't lie to her. "I don't know," I sadly answered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, blushing a little.

We were silent. I felt I might be blushing as well. In a second, all the pain came back. Wendy looked only absentmindedly at her stitches. She pulled the needle through once more, and I could not hold back a cry. Wendy looked up immediately, and the pity in her eyes made me uncomfortable.

"Anyway," she began again, "I am twelve, John is ten, and little Michael is seven."

I sighed. All the pain was gone.

"Where do you live?"

I felt myself smile. This was the part I was glad to tell her. "In Neverland," I whispered in a tone I had heard the Storyteller use to put her listeners in suspense.

"Neverland?" the Storyteller repeated, her voice just as breathy.

My grin grew wider. She was intrigued.

"I've never heard of it," she said, sounding a little surprised. "Is it in Asia or Europe?"

"Neither," I answered quickly. I had not a clue what or where Asia or Europe were, but I was certain Neverland was located in neither of them.

"Then it must be in America?" Wendy asked excitedly.

I felt suddenly that Neverland should be in America, since Wendy so wanted it to be. "No," I had to admit. "I've never heard of that place."

"Oh," she sighed.

I began to wonder if she was still interested. Her face brightened.

"Where is Neverland? It sounds magical," she said dreamily.

That was more like it. My smile returned. "It is," I replied. I pointed out the closed window. "Second to the right and straight on till morning."

Wendy looked a little puzzled. She fell silent for another moment. This time, I watched her thoughtful expression as she stitched. She seemed to snap out of a daydream. She looked at me again. "Well, this is London." She finished her last stitch and returned the needle to her sewing box. "There!" she smiled. "Your shadow is sewn on again."

I stood up and shook my feet around to test the connection. I waved my arms and jumped. Seeing the Shadow was completely under my control once again, I smiled and crowed softly, as to not wake John and Michael.

Wendy looked frustrated. "You conceit," she said, and buried herself in her bedcovers.

I sat on the end of the bed and tapped her softly. "Wendy, I can't help crowing. Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys."

Wendy slowly pulled the covers down, revealing her blushing face. "I think that's wonderfully sweet, Peter."

I grinned again, fortunately remembering not to crow. Wendy smiled back. Suddenly, we both heard the sound of bells.

"What is that?" Wendy asked.

I leaped up and ran to the box my shadow had been hiding in. I flung it open and out came Tinker Bell, huffing and furious. "This is Tinker Bell," I explained. "She's my pixie."

"A pixie? A real, live pixie!" Wendy exclaimed, leaping out of bed as well. She was so thrilled that I deduced she was oblivious to what Tink was saying.

"You idiot," the pixie ranted. "How could you shut me up in the box like that? And who is this revolting giant?"

"What is she saying?" Wendy finally asked.

I shooed Tink aside with my hand. "She says you're a big, ugly girl," I said, blushing at Tink's effrontery.

"Oh, really?" Wendy said. "I can tell we'll be the best of friends."

I watched Tink and Wendy as their eyes flashed with animosity. Wendy then looked on me with a sincere smile.

"I must give you something to remember me by, Peter," she said. "I'll give you a kiss."

My heart skipped a beat.

Tinker Bell stomped her feet.

Wendy handed me her silver thimble. I almost had to smile.

"Is this a kiss?" I asked.

"Yes," she said quickly.

Tink laughed.

"Now you must give me a kiss!" Wendy quickly added.

Tinker Bell screamed and dove into a drawer. Wendy smiled, closed her eyes, and inclined her cheek to me. I laughed to myself and contemplated what to do. Should I really kiss her? I decided to play along. I pulled an acorn off my outfit of foliage and tapped Wendy on the shoulder. She opened her eyes, and without a hint of disappointment, took the acorn. From the drawer, Tink snickered.

"Thank you, Peter," Wendy said. "I shall wear and treasure it always." She threaded a string through the acorn and put it around her neck. I thought it looked handsome there. Wendy sat on the bed and patted the space beside her. I sat next to her.

"Do you live in Neverland all by yourself, Peter?"

"Oh, no," I said. "Tink lives with me."

At this, Wendy made a disgusted face, as if to say, "How do you stand it?"

"And there are the lost boys," I added. "They are children who fall out of their prams when their nurses aren't looking. If they are not claimed in seven days, they are sent to Neverland."

"Aren't there any girls?" Wendy asked.

"No. Girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams."

Immediately, I saw that this was the right thing to say. Wendy's eyes softened, and she smiled a very womanly smile. "I would like to give you a thimble," she said.

"What's that?" I inquired, raising one eyebrow.

"It's like this." She brought her face close to mine, but something kept her lips from touching my cheek. She drew back.

"Now shall I give you a thimble?" I asked, hoping to appear perfectly innocent.

Wendy's doe eyes twinkled. "If you like."

I certainly did like. I bent toward her and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Wendy shrieked. It wasn't the reaction I was hoping for, but I tried not to act too shocked.

"What's wrong?" I asked. But as soon as the words were out, I saw what was wrong. Tink had grabbed Wendy's hair and was tugging as hard as she could. It was all Wendy could do to keep her feet planted. I grabbed Tink and flung her against the pillow.

"Perfect wretch!" Wendy exclaimed, rubbing the back of her head.

"You're one to talk," Tink retaliated. "Keep your lips to yourself or I'll kill you."

"Do I want to know what she said?" Wendy asked.

"No," I simply said. "Ignore her." However, I couldn't help wondering if there was any truth to Tinker Bell's threat.

"You are already doing that too well, lovebirds," Tink said. She resumed storming in the drawer.

Wendy and I now stood in the middle of the room. She wandered to the window and gazed longingly out it. It was then that the idea hit me. I must have seen it in her eyes. She wanted to go to Neverland with me!

"Why did you come here, Peter?" she asked, still looking at the stars.

"To get my shadow back." My mind spun. She wanted me to invite her. How could I do that?

"You've been here before," she accused.

"To listen to stories," I answered. That was it! Not only was this girl Wendy, she was also the Storyteller. I worded my next sentences very carefully. "You see, you tell such wonderful stories, and the lost boys and I don't know any stories."

"Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys!" she said. She turned her pleading eyes to me.

I smiled dangerously. I trudged to the window and flung it open. I spun round and grabbed Wendy's arm, perhaps a little too brashly.

"Let go!" she cried with mock alarm. But I knew she was yearning to leap out that window.

"Wendy, come with me," I whispered.

She hesitated! "I can't fly," she protested, yanking her arm free.

I would not have it. "I'll teach you. I'll teach you to ride the wind's back, and away we'll go!"

Wendy held her arm back and looked down. Could girls really be so difficult?

"There are mermaids," I said, trying a new tactic.

She looked up. "With tails?"

"Such lovely tails," I answered.

"To see a mermaid!" she whispered breathlessly.

"We should all respect you, Wendy," I said cunningly.

She wriggled a little, as if she wanted to step forward, but her feet wouldn't cooperate.

"You could tuck us in, and darn our socks, and make us pockets," I said all in one breath. I held out my hand.

Wendy inched forward. Her fingers began to move toward mine. Then, suddenly, she drew them away. But her eyes were bright. I knew I had her.

"Can John and Michael come, too?"

I groaned within myself. While I didn't quite understand what Wendy was, I could see plainly what her brothers were – two very ordinary, very stupid boys in whom I had no interest. However, if it would make Wendy come…

"If you wish."

Wendy smiled and ran with zeal to John and Michael, shaking them quite out of their beds. "Wake up!" she shouted. "Peter Pan is going to teach us to fly!"

John was the first one on his feet. "I'm up!"

Michael was soon up, too.

"Peter, can you really fly?" John asked.

I almost rolled my eyes. _No, I was just going to take you all on a jump out the window for you to hit the ground_, I thought. I flew straight up until my head hit the ceiling, which had taken me by surprise. I couldn't wait to get out into open air again, but I wasn't going without Wendy.

"Oo!" cried Michael.

"Capital!" added John.

"How sweet!" exclaimed Wendy.

I forgot myself. "I'm sweet! Oh, yes, I am sweet!" I crowed as I circled quickly round the room and landed before them again.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut and pushed upward with all his might, but he didn't leave the floor. John climbed up onto his bed and leaped off headfirst. He tumbled across the floor, only stopping when he hit the wall. Wendy just watched them both and giggled.

"How do you do it?" John asked, rubbing his head.

I locked eyes with Wendy. "You just think wonderful, happy thoughts, and they lift you into the air!" I demonstrated again, desperately hoping Wendy's happy thought would be me.

"How wonderful!" Wendy said.

I was just about to crow again when John asked, "Couldn't you do it a little slower?"

I sighed. I landed and took off and circled their heads, all at half speed.

"I've got it!" cried Michael, who tried jumping from his bed, but feet-first. This was fortunate since he immediately hit the floor again. "I suppose I've not got it," he admitted sadly.

Wendy shut her eyes and thought very hard. She jumped. She came down. She opened her eyes and looked at me hopelessly.

I chuckled quietly. The whole time, I knew that they couldn't fly if they wanted to, no matter how hard they tried. No one except me can ever fly without having pixie dust blown on him first. Tink, who had come out of the drawer to watch this hilarious act, now sat on my shoulder, doubled over in laughter. I held her in my hand and shook her gently over Michael's head. Some of her pixie dust drifted down, and he immediately levitated, much to the excitement of us all.

John once again mounted his bed. "Swords, pirates, sailing!" he shouted his happy thoughts as he leaped again. I shot through the air and shook Tink again. Her dust reached John just before he would have hit the ground.

By this time, Tink was quite upset about being used in such a way. "Let me go!" she yelled. When I would not, she bit my finger. _Then_ I let go. Luckily, some pixie dust was still on my hand. I landed and circled Wendy once, smiling mysteriously. She turned around, looking at me and laughing for joy at the very thought of flying. I blew over my hand, and her angelic face was clouded with golden shimmers, like a halo.

She began to float immediately, and I floated as well, keeping perfect pace with her. Her eyes were still glued to mine, and I was at once convinced that I was her happy thought. I nodded toward the floor. Wendy shrieked in sheer jubilation, and I laughed. Now all four of us were soaring around the room.

"John!" Wendy cried.

"Wendy!" he replied.

They joined hands and spun around, their heads bobbing against the ceiling.

"Look at me!" Michael yelled.

"Look at me!" John shouted.

"Look at me!" Wendy exulted.

I watched and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Of course, they were not nearly as elegant as I, because they were kicking at the air. But there is something absolutely delicious about the first taste of flight, and they were all experiencing it at once. I flew about as well, taking Wendy's hand and helping her – that is, until Tink was about to yank Wendy's hair again.

"Can we go outside?" pleaded Michael, staring at the open window. "I want to fly a billion miles!"

"Oh, it's so heavenly!" Wendy whispered to herself.

"Why shouldn't we go out, Wendy?" John asked.

Wendy slowly sank to the floor. Her happy thoughts were gone. I had certainly hoped that by this time Wendy would be convinced. Now that she had tasted flight, what else was there to consider? Why shouldn't she go to Neverland, just to be with me? What had she to lose? I sighed a little before saying again, "Mermaids!"

Wendy shot up like a rocket. I smiled.

"There are pirates," I added.

"Pirates!" shouted the boys. John grabbed his Sunday hat, and he and Michael tumbled out the window. I winked at Wendy and followed them.

Floating outside beyond the balcony's edge, I turned around. Wendy had paused, her toes gripping the windowsill and her fingers clutching the curtains. I went back to her. I held out my hand. Without smiling, I stared into her blue eyes, hoping to chase the fear out. She froze like that for a moment. I listened to John and Michael's whoops behind me. Suddenly, Wendy thrust her hand into mine. I gripped it and gently pulled her away from the window. Ever so slowly, her fingers let go of the curtains, one at a time. Her feet stood on air.

Now I smiled.

I pulled Wendy along to catch up with John and Michael. "Come on!" I shouted. I led them all upward, toward the second star to the right. Wendy still held tight to my hand. I looked at her and saw that she was smiling now.

I laughed.

She laughed.

I crowed. "Off to Neverland!" I cried so that every winking star would hear.

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So what did you think? Again, I promise that I'll get back to ASFTN soon. Thanks for reading!


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